Endings and Beginnings
by Cordria
Summary: After a lot of hard work, Danny and company finally reach the end of their journey. But is it really? Perhaps its just the start of something new.
1. Beginnings

_Oneshot. Will not be continued unless there's some huger-than-usual response, then I might._

_In honor of all those celebrating this year, as there seems to be more of you than normal. Congrats to you all!  
_

_

* * *

_

**Endings and Beginnings**  
_A Danny Phantom FanFic by Cordria_

_

* * *

_

I phased through the roof of the gymnasium and settled into a crouch into the rafters, a Fenton Thermos pressing against my hip. The place was packed – as I figured it was going to be – and I scanned the mass of chairs that littered the floor. Everyone was dressed in black, a somber atmosphere filled the huge room, and most people were quietly focused on the speaker.

"Damnit," I whispered with a scowl. "I miss everything."

Mr. Lancer, the new principal of Casper High, was gripping the podium, the squeaky speakers amplifying his voice. "…all year. This class was home to some of the best and the brightest Casper High has ever seen along with many superior athletes. We are losing you, class of 2010, and we will not be better because of it."

My own high school graduation and where was I? Shaking off Skulker and being late – as per usual for me – and now hiding in the shadows. Ghosts never failed to ruin the highlights of my life.

Ripping my eyes away from Lancer, I studied the students sitting nervously in their chairs. With those graduation caps, everyone was identical from up here. I found my empty seat and counted over three seats, locating the person I assumed was Tucker. The slight glow of some electronic something in his lap seemed to prove me right. Sam, though, was impossible to find.

My parents were easier to locate. Dad was like a bright orange beacon, a camcorder in his hands and an excited grin on his face. Mom was sitting next to him with a pile of black material in her lap and an annoyed look to her. There was the robe and cap I was _supposed_ to be wearing.

"Great," I hissed. How was I supposed to sneak over and get it? And where was Jazz? She was supposed to be here.

"And with that, I'll turn this over to your class Valedictorian, Samantha Manson."

"What?" My head jerked up to the stage and I watched with wide eyes as Sam Manson – _my_ Sam – stood up from a chair and walked up to the podium. "When did she…?"

Mouth dropping open more and more as Sam calmly unfolded a speech and moved the microphone to the right level, I couldn't quite grasp what was going on. Sam would have told me if she was giving the graduation speech – wouldn't she? Why would she keep that a secret from me?

Judging from the whispers coming from my classmates, the announcement of the class Valedictorian came as a surprise to a whole lot of people. Sam was smart, but apparently nobody had suspected her to be the first in our class.

"'You have brains in your head, you have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own and you know what you know. You're the guy who'll decide where you go.'" Sam looked out over her class and I half-imagined that her eyes caught on my empty chair. "Dr. Seuss wrote that in a little kids' book decades ago, but it applies to all of us today. We've been given the knowledge we need and every opportunity in the world. Now it's our chance to pick a path a follow it to the rest of our lives."

I wrapped one of my hands around the supports and I settled onto the rafter, my feet dangling into space. Something in the back of my head was bugging me to hurry up and figure out how to get to my seat, but I was entranced by Sam calmly addressing the entire senior class. I had to watch this.

"I've been talking to a lot of people over the past few months – not that they knew I was working on this speech – and you'd be surprised what kind of young adults will be soon be crossing this stage. One of them has a full scholarship to a veterinary college already. Another has been accepted into the military. Yet another plans on heading into a design program and becoming a famous fashionista. I want to share some of their stories with you so you know exactly who it is Amity Park is losing.

"Dash Baxter-" Sam paused as the class cheered, whistled, and clapped for a moment. In the front row, the tall person I figured was Dash was sliding down in his seat. "Dash is really well known as an athlete. Two months ago, Dash was accepted into the air force and will be headed off to basic training in August. Dash is strong, determined, and perfect for the military – he'll make it through training with flying colors. Dash Baxter will be out there, saving our country and fighting for freedom."

I couldn't help the small smile as another round of clapping filled the auditorium drowned out whatever Sam said next. Of course she'd start with someone popular like Dash; now she had everyone's attention.

As the noise drifted back into silence, I couldn't help sneaking a glance towards Dash. Would the bully of Amity Park really be a hero in a few months? That was hard for me to imagine.

"When we're talking about someone who can overcome adversity, the person everyone has to mention is Valerie Grey. Her mother died when she was in middle school and just as she started to pick up the pieces of her life a year later, everything fell apart again. She lost her home, her friends, her future… just about everything." A short stab of guilt sliced through my heart at the memory. "It threw her at first, but then her indomitable spirit jumped into play. She found new friends, a job, started saving for college, and bounced back stronger than ever. Sometimes from the shadows and not always on the side of what was popular, Valerie fought for what she believed in. She plans on attending Amity Park Community College next year in their criminal justice program, then transferring to a larger college and becoming a lawyer."

I sat there, spellbound, as Sam wove her way through the stories of some of our classmates. She mentioned how Star got her scholarship, how Paulina had been accepted into a great fashion program in California, how Tucker planned on building his own technology business from the ground up, how Kwan was getting into his parents' business, and how many of our classmates were set to do something great.

She brushed a piece of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, and I felt a reflexive smile drift onto my face. Sam was so beautiful and strong, standing up there.

"One last story for you, before I let you all graduate. There is one person in our class who is a true hero already, who has fought for you and suffered for you and made your lives better than you can imagine. This person has given up just about everything to do what was right without ever once asking for something in return. This person is a member of our class and truly exemplifies everything our class stands for. Strength. Integrity. Loyalty. Perseverance. And doing all of this from the shadows, without any accolades. This person was a real asset of our class and we'll never know everything that this person did for us, but we will know what we lost."

I was staring at her, my heart beating loudly in my chest. She was talking about me, I was sure of it, but she wouldn't tell everyone who I was… would she? As always, I felt that strange turmoil in my chest when I thought about people knowing exactly what I'd been through the past four years. The excitement of them learning about it versus the terror of them actually knowing.

Sam was quiet, that small smile on her face, looking out over the crowd. Everyone was silent, waiting for her to say who it was. She chuckled a little, then shook her head. "And without further ado, let's graduate!"

There was a moment of confused silence, then my classmates seemed to catch on to the fact that she wasn't going to tell a name. I felt a flash of relief and a moment of chagrin at thinking that she would tell them without asking me first. The audience laughed and cheered as Sam made her way off the stage to her seat and Mr. Lancer retook the podium.

"Thank you, Ms. Manson. Shall we get started?" He picked up the first diploma on the table as the new vice principal took his place at the microphone to call out names. That familiar graduation tune started to fill the gym, coming from the small section of junior band members sitting beside the stage.

"Robert Ackerman."

I watched Bobby nervously stand up and head up to the front before it suddenly hit me that we were graduating. And where was I? Still sitting stupidly in the rafters.

"Betty Artson."

Invisibility was just a flicker of a thought away and I slipped off the ceiling supports. I dropped through the air to hover over Sam still settling into her seat and straightening her clothes. Reaching out, I adjusted her cap for her.

She jerked a little and looked up in surprise, then snorted out a laugh and rolled her eyes. "Hurry up," she whispered to me.

"I know," said the kid sitting next to her. "I'm so nervous I wish this were over."

Sam smiled slightly and nodded. She shot one last glance up into the air before turning her attention back to the front.

"Ashley Baker."

I made my way to an empty restroom to stash the Skulker-filled Thermos. When I appeared in the hallway, I was seemingly as human as the rest of my classmates. Yanking at the collar of the jacket my mom had insisted I wore, I hurried through the doors into the gymnasium and snuck towards where I'd seen my parents sitting.

"Star Easton."

Mom caught sight of me when I was still a few rows away, her eyes narrowing in a combination of fury and reassignment. "You'll be late for your own funeral some day, kiddo," she said as she handed over the cap and gown. Dad noticed I had finally arrived and turned the camcorder in my direction with a smile.

"I love you too," I replied with a smile, pulling the gown over my jacket.

"Where were you?"

"David Erleigh."

It was the loaded question she'd been asking a lot recently. "I got stuck in the bathroom," I muttered, refusing to look up and meet her eyes. I knew it was a lie, she knew it was a lie, and the only person either of us were fooling by this point was Dad. She didn't know the truth yet – she might never know the complete answer – but she knew what the truth wasn't.

She sighed. "Get going; you're going to miss your name being called."

"Go get 'em Danno!" Dad cheered, jiggling the camera so much I figured anyone required to watch the replay later would get motion sickness.

I rolled my eyes and worked my way down the steps, across the floor to where the chairs full of students were waiting, and slunk to my seat.

"Dude," Tucker said, leaning forwards with an arched eyebrow, "you made it." He held a fist out in front of the people sitting between us.

"Carla Fanwright."

I tapped his fist and scowled as the girl sitting next to me vanished. "Don't sound so surprised."

"Sam's going to kill you for missing her speech. She's been working on it for months."

"I heard it," I said, taking a deep breath and straightening my cap. "You ready for this?"

"Daniel Fenton."

If Tucker answered my question, I never heard him. I pushed myself to my feet and followed Carla up towards the front of the room. Hesitating a moment as the overweight principal shook the hand of the girl before me, I took one last look around as a high school student. This was big. _Big_-big. I was graduating.

The five steps up to the stage where Mr. Lancer was holding onto my diploma looked like skyscrapers. Climbing them had my heart beating in a way it hadn't in a long time, my palms wet and nervousness clawing at me. Here I was, the great ghost fighter and hero and survivor of the antics of Vlad Masters, and I was definitely feeling the sharp fingers of terror in my mind because of five little steps.

It was stupid to a new degree, but my brain was conveniently ignoring that fact.

"Congratulations, Mr. Fenton," Mr. Lancer said, grabbing my hand and shaking it.

At some point, I remembered to shake his hand back rather than let my arm move around limply. "Thanks," I said with an uneasy smile.

"Of all the people in this room, you deserve this," he said softly. "And here I was thinking you weren't even going to be here."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," I replied honestly, accepting the diploma he pushed into my hands without even glancing at it. I turned to leave, but something felt off about the thing in my hand. I looked down at it and hesitated. "Mr. Lancer, you gave me two."

"I know," he said, grabbing the next one and gesturing for the next person to climb the steps.

"But…"

"Go sit down, Mr. Fenton."

I'd heard that tone in his voice before – and I figured I probably wouldn't ever again – so I just nodded and jumped off the edge of the stage. The junior standing by the steps handing out a rose to each graduate sent me a furious look and walked over to hand me the flower.

"Tucker Foley."

Passing my best friend on the way, I sent him a grin and gave him a high-five before settling into my seat to watch Tucker saunter happily across the stage and accept his diploma, his quick protest about not being able to get his diploma electronically filtering over the audience.

It wasn't until Tucker had his rose and was on his way back that I thought to look down at my diploma. Diplomas. Why had Lancer given me two?

I opened up the top one, scanning it quietly. There was my name, written in calligraphy, and Lancer's signature scrawled across the bottom. A thrill shot through me at seeing my name. It was official: I had graduated. I'd made it!

Closing it a little reluctantly, I slid it under the second one and opened it, curious.

"Casper High School," it read, the school's logo emblazoned under the name. "This certifies that Daniel Phantom has…"

I froze, my hands moving on their own to slowly close the diploma, my mind completely empty for a long few seconds.

"You look like you're going to be sick," Tucker whispered as he pushed past me to settle back into his seat, diploma in hand. "You okay?"

I nodded, or at least I think I nodded, but whatever I did, Tucker leaned back in his chair to enjoy the rest of the graduation and left me to my own thoughts. Not that I really had any – my eyes looked up to find the teacher who had driven me crazy so many times and I just stared at him blankly.

How the…

What the…

When did…

How did…

Why didn't he…

"Amy Zicherson."

I blinked suddenly, shaking myself out of the dazed stupor I'd found myself in. The short girl with the glasses walked past my row, the last kid in our class to receive her diploma, and I watched her nervously move across the stage and shake the principal's hand. Somewhere in my head, I'm sure I realized at that point that I'd missed seeing Sam's graduation, but it didn't register yet.

"Congratulations to everyone." Mr. Lancer's voice rang out over the gymnasium, having commandeered the microphone from the stumpy vice-principal. "I know how hard you've worked over the years and you're ready for whatever the world will throw at you."

I almost thought he looked right at me when he said that.

"I expect letters from each and every one of you telling me about how much you've made of your life after high school. You're poised to rule the world and I, for one, am sure that the world will be much better place because of it. We'll miss you all."

There was a moment of silence as Mr. Lancer looked down at his podium. When he looked up again, his eyes were shining and he had an odd smile on his face. "If the graduates would please stand." He waited for the noise and the shuffling of people to stop before continuing. "Please move your tassels."

I reached up with everyone else, feeling the silken threads running through my fingers as I moved the orange and black tassel to the other side of my cap in that age-old ritual. It brushed against my face as it settled into place.

"People of Amity Park, may I present to you the Class of 2010!"

The cheering and clapping that broke out nearly drowned out the sound of the band striking up whatever song the band director had on tap next. Tucker wormed past the people and grabbed me into a rough hug before letting go to jump onto a chair and yell in triumph.

Now would be the perfect time for a ghost to attack.

As I made my way over to Sam with the intent to smother her with a congratulatory hug, I couldn't keep that thought from surfacing in my brain. My eyes quickly scanned the gymnasium, but there was nothing except my own paranoia. At least not that I could _see…_

"Danny!" I jerked my mind out of its suspicious circlings when Sam pushed her way within reach of me and punched my shoulder. "You missed my speech!"

"I heard your speech," I argued back, speaking loudly to be heard over the cheering graduates. "On behalf of the entire hero community, I have to say that you calling Dash hero-material was a bit low. I did like the ending though."

The smile that lit her face was truly beautiful. It made her eyes sparkle and it brought her whole body to life. "I'm glad you made it," she said, throwing her arms around my shoulders and hugging tightly.

She was so soft, so warm, and so wonderful that I could have stayed like that forever, my arms wrapped around her and my nose in her hair. "You have no idea how glad I am too," I whispered.

It wasn't to last, however. Dad made his way through the crowd, parting them like a bowling ball going through a hapless set of pins. "Danny!" he shouted, waving the video camera around wildly. "Over here! I need to get a picture!"

"Come on," Sam said, untangling herself from me and dragging me towards my parents. I sighed and followed, watching my Mom and Jazz appear almost like magic from behind my father's bulk. "I need a picture of you and me – and you know that my parents'll refuse to take it."

"Congrats, little brother," Jazz said with a smile, giving me a quick hug.

"Where were you sitting?" I managed to ask before Dad pulled me away and deposited me near a wall next to Sam.

She smiled. "A couple of rows up. We got here a bit late and there weren't many seats left. I saw everything though."

"Smile!" Dad commanded, handing the video camera to Jazz and grabbing a smaller camera out of one of his pockets.

"Who gave your dad camera duty?" Sam asked softly. "He's always a bit… overzealous."

"No idea," I muttered back. "Now smile before he gets out some invention to _make_ you smile."

The camera clicked and I blinked spots out of my eyes as Dad examined the picture on the small screen with narrowed eyes. Tucker suddenly appeared next to me and threw an arm around my shoulders. "We need another picture!" he chirped.

Dad seemed to agree, since the camera was up to his eye again. I was about to smile when I felt a tugging at my hands. Looking down, I saw my mom pulling my diploma out of my hands. "I'll hold onto it for you," she said.

I nodded and smiled, watching out of the corner of my eye as she open my diploma…

_Diplomas_…

Crap.

The camera flashed.

"Daniel. James. Fenton. Explain this, _now_."


	2. Endings

_So you have wished it... and lots of people made it known that they did. With pitchforks. And three-tine pitchforks (aka: tridents)._

_So it shall be. For better or for worse...  
_

_

* * *

_

**Endings and Beginnings  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

I winced at the sound of my mother's voice and the look of slowly growing comprehension on her face. Momentarily unable to breathe, my heart stuttered and a stab of terrified adrenaline slammed through my gut. It took a long second before I was able to draw in a shaky breath. "What?" I asked, my voice a hoarse croak.

There was no question about what she had seen and I knew that this was the one puzzle piece she needed figure everything out. When she looked up at me, her eyes wide with some strange sort of understanding, I licked my lips uneasily. "Explain this," she repeated, her voice soft and stunned.

I pushed away from the wall and walked up to her, reaching out to take the diplomas from her hands, but Mom pulled away from me. "Mom…" Her fingers were tightening around the diploma, her knuckles almost turning white.

"Explain this." The third repetition of her request was a bit shorter, anger starting to appear in her voice.

My mind was racing, sweat starting to make the palms of my hands sticky. I didn't really want them to know my secret after all this time – I _especially_ didn't want them to learn it in a packed auditorium full of some of the most fervent Phantom fans on the planet. "Lancer thought that I could give…"

I trailed off when Mom's eyes narrowed and hardened and I took an unconscious step backwards. "If you lie to me right now, _Daniel_," she snapped, her fury jumping into full force, "you'll never walk into my house again."

A surge of painful emotions curled through me at her words: irritation at her finding this out in such a stupid fashion, terror at what they'd do when I explained all of it, anger at myself for letting this happen. Finally, my eyes dropped down to study my shoes. "Mom," I started, but stopped when I realized that I didn't know what to say.

The problem was that there wasn't anything _to_ say. No words I could string together would satisfy her right now. Mom knew enough of the truth to be furious with me, and after years of lies and the hunting and all the dangerous fights… she had every right to be.

A hand touched my shoulder after a long moment of silence and Sam brushed past me and took the diploma from my mom's hands. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she quietly opened it, swearing softly when she read the contents. Mom watched Sam too, her eyes widening slightly.

"What's going on?" Tucker asked, reaching over Sam's shoulder to take the diploma and scan the inside. "This certifies that Daniel Ph-" he cut off, blinking down at it in confusion. Suddenly a stupid smile appeared on his face and he punched the air happily. "I _knew_ it! I knew Lancer knew…" The smile vanishing from Tucker's face, he trailed off and looked up at us. "Oh, crud," he whispered.

"You knew," Mom said, her voice cutting like knives. I flinched and closed my eyes – I knew I'd have to face her wrath for the years of lies and heartache, but I hadn't really thought much about the fact that Tucker and Sam would be on the receiving end as well. "You knew about this and you never told me? How could you-"

"Mom," I interrupted, reaching out to touch her arm.

She turned to look at me, tense with anger. "Daniel James Fenton, how could you possibly-"

"Mom," I interrupted again, a bit louder. "Will you let me explain?" For a long, horrible second, I didn't think she was going to. I thought she was just going to continue to yell at me in the middle of this crowd of people. But she nodded. "Come on," I said, turning towards the doors.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mom asked, folding her arms tightly, her body rigid.

I glanced back at her and then quickly let my eyes flicker over everyone else. Jazz was looking at the diploma in Tucker's hands, the color draining from her face. Dad seemed completely confused and Sam and Tucker looked startled and pitying. "I'm not doing this here."

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz caught on and started heading towards the exit, but Mom simply planted her feet and narrowed her eyes further. "Why not?" she demanded.

"Because I'm not," I said softly, my shoulders sagging as it hit me: after all those years, I was going to tell my parents about my double life. When Mom looked like nothing was going to move her, I just shook my head and sighed. "I'll be in the RV when you want to listen."

"Mads," Dad said, finally speaking up. He grabbed her elbow and started to steer her towards the exit. "Come on."

I smiled sadly at him, trying to ignore the questions swimming in his eyes, and fell into step behind them. People all around me were partying and celebrating, but it suddenly seemed so far away and so long ago to me. What was I going to say to my parents? Silence met my mental question, my brain refusing to be at all helpful.

Someone suddenly bumped into me and I looked up with a glare, frustrated ire jumping into my throat. The woman - someone's mother, probably - blinked in surprise before moving off, glancing over her shoulder at me. Clenching my fingers a few times and swallowing down the unsettled feeling in my stomach, I let out a slow breath and let my thoughts churn about what was going to happen. In my dreams, I always knew what I'd do if my parents found out. My parents always accepted me and life just moved on.

The door to the auditorium swung open and I trailed after my family, stepping into the afternoon sunshine. I looked up at the sky as I walked through the parking lot, watching a bird trace lazy circles against a cloud-speckled sky, wishing I was up there too.

In the sunlight? In reality? Would my parents still accept this?

I pinched my arm, hoping faintly that this was just another twisted dream. But people dressed in black kept brushing past me, chattering excitedly, and the vague half-wish fizzled away. There'd be no waking up from this one.

The door to the RV unlocked with a _click_, my dad reaching up to pull it open and escort us inside. I picked a random spot against a wall, the blood rushing through my brain making me feel a little dizzy. When the door slammed shut, I jumped, licking my lips, convinced my parents could hear my heart pounding in my chest from where they were sitting. My eyes flickered to the door, then to the floor, then finally – and slowly – up to meet my parents' eyes.

"Explain," Mom said shortly, leaning forwards and fixing me with her gaze.

My mouth moved a few times, no words forming. "I…" I managed to say, my voice breaking on even that small word. I felt my foot bounce a few times nervously, then I reached inside and tapped the cold little spot in my mind.

I didn't truly _mean_ to turn into Phantom. I was trying to steal a bit of my ghost side's emotionless bravery and no fear attitude, but in the nervous heat of the moment I reached too far. Or, as Ms. Psychotherapy-in-training would probably tell me, I really meant to and I just didn't want to think that I did. Something convoluted like that.

About one heartbeat of pure, unbridled panic flared through me before the rings of energy washed over me and my ghost's detached emotions pushed the feeling away. I was still terrified, but it was something distant that I could ignore if I wanted.

I wanted. So very much.

"How?"

I flinched slightly at my mom's voice. The fury in her voice was gone, replaced by something much softer and cooler. Her face was blank, her body loose – except her hands, which were curled white-knuckled in my dad's. A hand crept up to the back of my neck, my weight shifting in a far-flung sort of nervousness at her impassive gaze. She looked a lot like she did when she was about to dissect something: blank and uncaring.

"The portal accident when I was fourteen," I said, my voice quiet.

She simply blinked, her eyes unfocusing for a moment, and nodded, every bit the scientist and not the mother. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I…" I shrugged and let my eyes drift to the ground. There was no good answer to this question. "I guess I didn't want you to know." It wasn't the right answer – and it was far from the complete truth – but it was the easiest thing to say and the only thing I _could_ say. Anything else I said would only have made the whole thing worse.

The silence that followed that remark stretched for too long. My lip found its way between my teeth and I felt my muscles tensing. Dad spoke next. "You've been ghost hunting."

I glanced up at him, seeing the stunned look on his face, and nodded. "Yeah."

"You let us hunt you." Mom's words weren't a question.

"Yeah." The word barely escaped my mouth and I'm not sure they even heard it. Words bubbled inside of me – how I wasn't ever in any real danger, how they weren't really that good of ghost hunters anyways, how I modified their equipment (with my friends' help) so it wouldn't track me, how good I'd gotten and how many ghosts I'd caught – but my teeth seemed glued together.

A soft sound, something like a sigh, filtered through the small RV. "Thus the bruises and things."

I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Her voice sounded bewildered and lost. "No big deal? My son has been dead for _four years_ and it's _no big deal?"_

"I'm not dead," I put in quickly, my head jerking up. I took a step closer to her, my breath catching and my forward movement stalling when she appeared to press away from me. "Mom, I'm not dead."

Dad nodded, but Mom's emotionless expression never changed. She continued to stare at me like a scientist examining a ghost. Which, technically, she was.

"Really," I said softly, gazing into her eyes. I wanted to run away, I wanted to fly, I wanted to do _anything _but be here right now doing this, but I didn't have a choice. There was no going back; there was no changing this. I took a deep breath and slowly walked up to her, her eyes widening and her body tensing like a bird's right before it takes off. Kneeling down in front of her, I reached out and touched her hand. It was still clutching my father's hand for dear life. "I promise."

She slowly unwound her fingers from Dad's, letting them trail over my hand. I could feel the warmth of her skin; undoubtedly she could feel the coldness of mine. The artery in her neck pulsed wildly, her eyes still watching me warily, and I waited. It took every ounce of will-power I possessed to stay still.

Butterflies threatened to tie knots in my stomach and the nerves in my legs twitched, wanting to move and run away from this. My living side battered at the ghost currently in charge, screaming to be let free. I squashed it back down, swallowed hard, and let my gaze flicker to my father and back to Mom. I couldn't change back, not yet.

"Danny," Dad said, but his voice trailed off and he shook his head, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

Unexpectedly Mom's hand moved, reaching out to touch my chest. I flinched slightly from the contact and tried not to lean back as her hand traveled up to my neck and pressed down. "Jack," she whispered, the blankness receding slightly from her eyes and a glistening wetness showing up around the corners. "D-Danny."

Seeing the tears in her eyes tipped the battle waging inside my mind. I lost the fight with my human side and felt life wash through me in a warm, heavy wave. Mom jerked her hand away as energy passed over me and she breathed in once, sharply, her fingers pressing into her mouth.

Human emotions slammed into me, seemingly angry about having been shuttered for the last minute or so. My stomach twisted hard, my hands suddenly started to sweat, and my throat tightened painfully. I took a shuttering breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my stomach. "I'm not dead," I repeated.

She blinked at me a few times, her eyes full of tears, then she threw her arms around me. I tensed for a moment before letting her pull me tightly to her. Her heart was racing and her breath was hitching in her lungs, her hands curling themselves into my graduation robe. Abruptly, she backed away and grabbed my shoulders. "I'm furious with you," she said, her eyes shining. A hand left my shoulder to trace over my face and tap my nose a few times. She closed her eyes and nodded to herself. "I'm furious with you," she whispered a second time.

"I know," I muttered, looking down at the floor. "And I'm sorry."

"You've been Phantom all this time?" Dad asked softly. I had never heard him speak so quietly before. Nodding as my hand crept back towards my neck, I looked at my father through my bangs. He seemed a little broken, his eyes apparently not able to focus on me for more than a second or two. "I've been hunting my own son all this time."

I bit my lip and looked away, nodding. "I'm-"

"It's okay, Dad," Jazz cut in quietly, reaching out to touch his arm. "You haven't ever hurt him. I've been making sure he was safe-"

"_You knew_?"

I closed my eyes and winced, feeling Mom's hands leaving my shoulders. "Mom-"

When I glanced up at her, Mom had twisted in her seat, her tear-stained eyes focused on Jazz. My sister had shrunk back against the wall, her eyes wide and surprised. "All this time," Mom seethed softly, "the three of you knew what kind of danger my son was in and _you never told me_?" When a chorus of nods met her question, Mom's eyes closed tightly, her hands coming up to press at her eyes. "He could have been _hurt_. He could have been _killed!_ Not to mention the fact that there are dozens - _hundreds!_ - of experiments and weapons in that house that never would have been done if we would have known about this. You _let me_ put my _child_ in danger."

"Mom-" I tried again, but she wasn't done.

"I fully realize that teenagers don't always make wonderful decisions, but this one I can't imagine any of you making. I thought you had _something_ resembling a head on your shoulders. What would you have done if Danny got hurt? How could you _possibly_ imagine that I would have ever forgiven you if he would have gotten seriously hurt and you'd never told me?"

"Mom, please," I said.

"_What if I had hurt him?_" Tears were trickling down her cheeks from behind her hands, the fury in her voice cracking. "What if I had hurt my _own son_?"

I reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling them away from her face. Mom's eyes were red and her hands were shaking. "It's my fault," I said softly. "Don't blame them."

"What if this ghost thing he can do is dangerous?" she continued, looking over my head at my sister and my friends. Her voice was raw with anger and terror. "What if he's seriously hurting himself - _killing_ himself maybe? And you... any of you... you never thought to tell me."

"It's _my fault_," I said again, louder, pulling her attention to me. The broken look in her eyes slammed straight into my gut, making it clench painfully. "They only did what I told them to do. Stop yelling at them."

For a long, horrible minute, she just stared down at me. Her shoulders moved up and down as she breathed, quietly shaking her head. Finally she closed her eyes and stood up, moving to sit in the driver's seat of the RV and stare out the front window.

"Mom-"

"Mads," Dad interrupted softly, getting up, one hand reaching out to pat my head as he stepped past to settle into the passenger seat. He pushed the armrest out of the way and scooted close to my mom, pulling her to him. "It's okay."

"No it's not," I heard her whisper, her voice breaking. "Jack, how can this be okay?"

I looked down at the floor and let out a slow trickle of air. "Great," I breathed, twisting around and pushing myself into the seat my mother had vacated. Propping my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands, I glanced at my friends for the first time in a long while. Sam just stared at me, her face pale with red spots on her cheeks, her mouth slightly open and a dazed look in her eyes. Tucker had his white-knuckled hands twisted into his pants, his face turned to stare at his knees.

Jazz looked between me and our parents, her face a bit red, but when she caught my eye she sighed and gave me a small half-smile. "I knew this was coming," she mouthed.

I rolled my eyes at that and sent her a tiny grin, but I couldn't keep up any sort of happy mood for more than a few heartbeats. My heart broke as I listened to my mother crying from the front seat, knowing it was all my fault. "Good for you," I mouthed back sourly. "What do I do?"

Shrugging, Jazz glanced towards the front seat, then focused on watching her fingers weaving together in her lap.

She seemed perfectly content to wait for Mom to get over it, but I wasn't. I didn't want to hear how badly I'd hurt her over the past four years - I wanted her to accept it and smile and be happy... even if it was something of a far-fetched dream. I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew that doing nothing wasn't going to change anything.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself to my feet and slipped to the front of the RV. Mom was curled up against Dad, her face buried in his shoulder. When I saw a few tears on my dad's face, my stomach gave a small flip. "I'm sorry," I whispered. It wasn't enough, but I had no idea what else to give. Dad looked up at me, sending me tiniest of nods. I bit my lip, feeling my heart beating in my throat. "Like I said, it was the portal accident. I'm not dead - I promise! - and I'm not really a ghost. Not by their standards, anyways. I'm... like... kind of... something like... a half-ghost."

I shot a look over my shoulder. Jazz smiled at me, nudging Tucker so that he looked up. Tucker's eyes were rimmed with red, but he sent me a weary grin. Sam shook her head with a faint smile, but then nodded, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms, her smile changing to a scowl. When I looked back at my parents, my mom had half-turned in the seat and was looking up at me.

"It's not hurting me," I said softly, dropping into a crouch and pulling some energy out of the air. I molded it between my hands, forming it into a small ball of brightly-burning plasma. I stared at it, unwilling to look up at my parents. "And it doesn't hurt. If it did, if I was _ever_ in any real danger, I would have told you."

"How can you say that?" Mom asked quietly. "I've seen some of the things Phan... you have done. How can you possibly say you weren't in any real danger?"

Rolling the tiny ball of energy, I ran my tongue over my teeth. "See, there came a point when explaining this to you was scarier than fighting off some stupid ghost." I let the plasma roll to a stop in my hand, feeling it start to seep between my fingers like freezing goop. "All those times I lied to you... and let you chase me around... and all those misunderstandings... I had no idea how to even start explaining that."

"You're going to explain them all," she said, "and answer every single question we have."

I nodded.

"_Honestly_, Danny. No more lies," she added.

I closed my eyes and nodded, swallowing a lump that had developed in my throat. "I promise."

"Good."

Looking up at her, my stomach twisting at the strange combination of fury and sadness and fear still on her face, I sent her a smile. I tried to anyways - I wasn't sure how well it turned out. It must have done something, because Mom's lips turned up into a small, sad smile and she sat up a bit straighter. I felt something inside of me melt at that small sign that things would be all right.

"I get the first question," Dad rumbled, his eyes focused on the glowing light in my hand. I looked down at it, twirling my fingers a few times to get the ectoplasm back into a rough ball-shape, and waited for him to say something. Dozens of questions raced through my mind - from the insane to the arcane - and I thought he'd pick the hardest question to ask first. But he surprised me with an easy one: "Why were you late to graduation today?"

I blinked at him, rocking back on my heels. "Um... I was in-" I cut off suddenly, realizing that I was about to lie to my parents yet again. Taking a breath and shaking my head, I steeled myself to tell my parents the truth for once. It came out hesitantly, each word a struggle to cross my lips. "Skulker wanted to play tetherball."

I had been hoping that would be that - new question, move on - but Dad seemed to have finally found his voice after being silent all this time. "Who's Skulker?"

"The big, robotic ghost," I answered slowly, letting my eyes focus on the ectoplasm in my hands. I squeezed it and molded it into different shapes, not wanting to look up. This conversation was going to quickly take a horrible turn, I could feel it.

"The one that's always chasing you around, yelling about hunting?" Mom asked. I heard her shift in her chair and I nodded, rolling the plasma into a ball again.

"Why does he want to play tetherball with you?" Dad's voice sounded confused.

I glanced up at Dad, feeling my heart skip a few times at the question. My toes clenched inside my shoes, my fingers tightening around the ectoplasm I'd been playing with. "Um..." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam slowly shaking her head. I shot Tucker a look, but he just shook his head and looked away. "Skulker... he..." I took a deep breath, then let it out quickly. "He doesn't. He thinks my head would make the perfect tetherball."

There were a few beats of silence before I looked up through my bangs. Mom's face was slowly devolving into some sort of protective anger, but Dad still looked bewildered. "How would he do that?" Dad asked. "Don't you have to hit a tetherball around a pole?"

"I'm assuming," I muttered quietly, "that my head wouldn't be attacked to me anymore when he decides to play."

Dad stiffened at that, his eyebrows wrinkling together on his forehead as he worked through everything that meant.

"Where is this Skulker now?" Mom wondered softly. She leaned forwards and pushed some of the bangs out of my eyes and pushed against my forehead, making me look up at her.

I shrugged, pulling away from her fingers and looking back down. My foot twitched and I had to catch another lie in my throat before it could worm its way out instead of the truth. "In a Fenton Thermos."

A moment of quiet met that answer and I heard a soft sigh, followed by a quiet chuckle. Surprised, I looked up to see my mother gazing at me with something almost like a smile on her face. "You're not very good at answering these questions," she said softly. A snort of laughter came from behind me and I flushed a little. Then her somewhat-happy look vanished, her smile fading to a frown. "I suppose there's a reason for it."

I tensed at that, worried that she'd ask, _knowing_ that she'd never forgive me if I told her all the people that were out there after me and exactly _why_ I was keeping my double-life a secret from so many people... Vlad and Valerie and the GiW and lots of ghosts and...

Something must have crossed my face because she tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. Her gaze flickered down to my hands and I followed her gaze, surprised to see how intensely bright the ball of ectoplasm had grown. I crushed it in my hand, absorbing the energy, the light dying abruptly. I closed my eyes and waited for the question.

"Where's the Thermos," Mom asked.

My eyes shot open and I looked up at her in surprise. That hadn't been the question I'd thought she was going to ask. My mind scrambled for a moment, coming up with the answer, then I stuttered out, "In the boy's bathroom behind the gym." She reached up and brushed at her eyes, pushing her hair behind her ears, and set that small, kind-of-fake-but-mostly-real smile back on her face. I glanced away, feeling my legs start to twitch again. "I... probably should go get it..." I muttered, feeling the sudden desire to get out of the RV for awhile.

Mom shook her head. "You're not going anywhere, Danny. We've got-"

"Hold on a sec, Mads," Dad cut in, reaching over and touching her hand before turning to me. "How long can Stalker-Hunter stay in this Thermos?"

I licked my lips and shrugged. "I don't know - weeks, maybe. You invented it; you tell me."

"But nobody ever got it working," Dad replied, glancing at me. I shrugged again, unable to think of how to answer that.

"If it can stay in there for weeks, you can get it later," Mom said firmly. "We're going home and talking about this. All six of us."

I blinked at that, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I thought it through. "But it's kind of cruel... the Thermos is tiny."

The RV went silent for a beat. Behind me, I heard two people snickering softly. Mom opened and closed her mouth a few times, then shook her head. "If it tried to use your head as a tetherball, maybe being in a Thermos for a few days would do it good."

"Danny has an odd sense of justice," Sam said from behind me, her voice barely audible.

I shot her a glare. "I do not. You just can't _treat_ a ghost the same way you treat a human - Skulker doesn't _get it_. He's obsessed with hunting and no amount of time trapped in a Thermos will change that. He's probably already forgotten why he's in there anyways. That changes it from him being cruel to me being cruel."

"I'll go get it," Tucker volunteered quickly, already half-way to the door. "I'll meet you at your house... eventually."

"You can't get it, Tucker," I muttered.

He blinked at me a few times, then sagged into a chair, eying the door with a bit of jealousy. "Right."

"Why can't Tucker go get it?" Dad put in. "That sounded like a plan..."

"When Danny hides something," Sam answered, leaning forwards, "it stays hidden unless you decide to tear down all the walls, floors, and ceilings. And even then you might not find it." She smiled slightly. "The only person who can get it is Danny."

I shrugged and studied my fingers. "I can get it later," I mumbled softly. "Let's go home."

Mom's fingers touched my chin and raised my head until I had to look at her. She stared at my face for a long time before she shook her head. "Go get it."

One of my eyebrows went up at that. "No, it's okay. I can-"

"Just go, Danny," she said, a bit more firmly. "We'll see you at home."

Her fingers came off my chin, but I kept gazing at her. "Okay..." I got to my feet and slipped out the door, closing it behind me and leaning against the side of the RV. My eyes closed and I took a deep, shuddering breath. "That was fun," I mouthed. "Not."

I pushed away from the RV, winding my way through the crowds of people still packing the parking lot. My mind worried about what was going on inside the RV without me - what kind of questions my parents were asking, how my friends were answering, what they were saying about me. How many of my secrets were going to be spilled without me even knowing? How many psychological melodramas was my sister getting my parents to believe in?

Deciding that I almost wanted to be back in the RV instead of having this little 'reprieve' from the questioning, I stumbled right into party-central. It still was graduation, after all. "Danny!" came a familiar voice, Paulina sidling up next to me. "I need a picture!"

"I don't know where the ghost boy is," I muttered automatically, causing Paulina to fall into a fit of giggles.

"No, with _you _silly!" she cooed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and grinning into the mass of people.

"Paulina, not right-" I started, but a flash came from somewhere and Paulina was gone, only to be replaced by people I didn't barely knew. By the time I made it to the doors of the school, I'd signed fourteen autograph books, didn't remember to smile for nine pictures, and wormed my way out of a dozen conversations with teachers I'd never see again.

Finding a quiet spot just inside the school, I dropped to the floor and sighed, pressing a hand against my forehead. A headache was starting to develop and I groaned. Dealing with crowds of people wasn't my strong suit on most days - today it was worse than normal. Finally I just shook my head and twisted invisible, flipping over to Phantom before vanishing through the walls.

"Hello, Thermos," I whispered as I snuck into the appropriate bathroom and raided the wall behind the center stall. I picked it up and glared at it, giving the Thermos (and its contents) a firm shake before throwing the strap over my shoulder. "I hate you, Skulker," I told him sourly. "You make my life a living Hell some days."

I pushed off the ground, hovering for a moment, when a soft whistling curled into my ears. I waited, listening, and a thought glittered to life as I recognized the tune. There was a loose end to tie up before I left the school.

I dropped back to the ground, slipping invisible as I stepped through the wall and settled into slow walk beside the one adult who had never left me alone throughout my high school career. He was my teacher for too many classes, then my principal and overseer of a record-setting number of detentions. I watched Mr. Lancer walk, seemingly unaware of my presence.

_How in the world did you figure me out?_ I wondered to myself, listening to that stupid tune he'd taken to whistling lately. I wrinkled my nose and decided to test something. Staying invisible, I let myself fall back to being human. When Mr. Lancer did nothing but continue to walk, I almost snorted out a laugh. If I'd have done that anywhere near Sam or Tucker, they'd have jumped out of their skin.

"Supernaturally dead as a doornail," I said aloud, watching my principal finally flinch and twirl around, the color draining from his face. I laughed a bit and let my invisibility vanish. "How do you figure out who I was if you're _that_ insensitive to the paranormal?"

Mr. Lancer swallowed, a deep breath escaping his lungs. "Mr. Fenton. Don't do that."

I shrugged and smiled at him. "Come on, seriously. How?"

"I'm awesome like that," the principal said, a smile drifting onto his face and color finally starting to reappear in his cheeks. "It took awhile, though," he admitted after a moment. "Too many coincidences fit together too nicely."

"How long did you know?" I asked, rocking back on my heels and tipping my head to the side, curious.

"Better question," Mr. Lancer shot back, "is how long _haven't_ I known?"

I snorted and shook my head. "I'll never get teachers."

He started walking down the hallway again and I fell into step next to him. "Any particular reason why you were so late today, Mr. Fenton?"

I pulled on the strap from the Thermos, letting it settle back against my chest with a _thump_. "Keeping the party... in one piece." I smiled a bit and stuffed my hands into my pockets. "Thanks for the diploma, by the way."

"You're welcome, Danny." He shot me a curious look. "Not going to the party?"

"I wish," I muttered, but when his forehead wrinkled into a question, I just shot him a fake-feeling smile. "I have stuff to do. Aren't _you_ going to go?"

"I've never been a fan of graduations," he admitted easily. "Too many people I've grown fond of I'll never get to see again."

"Aww..." I teased, poking his shoulder with a finger, "you're really a softie. You had me going for all these years."

He stopped his walk, turning to gaze at me blankly. Then he smiled and shook his head. "I'm going to miss you, Danny. You were one of the reasons I kept coming to work."

I shrugged and laughed. "I have this feeling I'm not going to get away from this place so easily. This school's a freaking magnet for ghosts."

"As long as your parents stay away," Mr. Lancer deadpanned.

I snorted. "Deal." I glanced up at his office door, then back at him. "I got to get going. Have a great summer, Mr. Lancer."

He reached out a hand and I grabbed it, actually shaking his hand this time. "You're not my student anymore," he said softly, "You can call me Will if you want."

"Will?" I shook my head. "It's too weird. You'll always be Mr. Lancer."

"Goodbye, Danny," he said.

I smiled at him and turned myself invisible, pushing myself into the air before twisting into Phantom. I was through the ceiling with little more than a thought and up into the air. I had no desire to face the wrath of the crowds of people again and, besides, I had a feeling I'd be seeing most of them again soon. We were a supernatural sort of class, after all.

The Fenton RV was easy to spot as it wound its way through the streets of Amity Park and I followed it, stretching my arms out and letting the wind whistle in my ears. Hours and hours of talking would happen once we got home, I was sure. But it would all end up for the best. Probably.

For now, I just let my mind wander. Graduation, my parents finding out, Lancer being nice...

It was the ending of an old life, that was for sure. But it was most definitely the beginning of a new one.


End file.
